Tea Party
by XThorn
Summary: England begins to lose his sanity after his tea chest is stolen and he misses his elevenses. But there seems to be no one else who has proper tea and madness slowly ensues. Never come between a Brit and their tea.


Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, as much as it pains me to admit. Nor do I own any of the countries or their bosses, although I am part of the wonderful country England.

AN: Yo guys, this is not only the first story that I've ever written for Hetalia but it is also my very first one shot and request piece so I hope you all enjoy it. I've also taken time out of my busy schedule of writing my current ongoing multi chapter story as well as my University work so I hope you all like this. Let me know if I've made any mistakes and feel free to send me a private message with any comments that you all may have. Also don't forget to review as without reviews I would not be writing at all, it's that which pushes me on to continue with my writing. So review, review and review again, now on with the story. Enjoy and review. Review

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><p>- Tea Party -<p>

It was gone.

How could it possibly be gone?

It was his most treasured possession and yet someone had managed to sneak passed his defences and steal right from under his very nose.

His beloved oak tea chest had been stolen.

England sat in his plush leather chair, legs crossed, booted foot shaking, left hand taping the chair in a fast steady rhythm whilst his right hand had the arm of his chair in a fierce death grip. His furrowed bushy eyebrows shadowed over his green eyes as he stared at the empty space on the small table before him. His eyes trained on the exact spot were his precious had once been happily sat.

Who could have taken it and why?

Was It Germany? Perhaps he was still bitter about losing that football world cup, among other things. But even with this thought, the theory was quickly dismissed. Wherever Germany went, Italy was not far behind and nothing else was out of place for that klutz to have moved, nor was there the aroma of fresh pasta that always followed the boy. If it weren't for the fact his tea chest was missing then he probably never would have noticed that someone had been into his house. A rather disconcerting thought at best.

Perhaps it was his big brother Scotland; trying to bully his poor younger brother into acting like the small tiny country that he truly was. But then again perhaps not, fore England knew what his older brother was like and it was unlike him to be this subtle, he would have more than likely destroyed the box and left his beautiful tea leaves strewn haphazardly across the floor.

At least it appeared that whoever had stolen his treasure had also taken the chest along with it, meaning that it was unlikely to have been destroyed; else the culprit would have merely taken the leaves and left the heavy carved wood box. The large box had first come into the bushy browed boy's possession when he had first become a feared pirate of the seven seas all those years ago. It held a great deal of sentimental value for him. Not that he would let onto anyone else of course, he was England, stiff upper lip and all that.

Still that was not the most pressing matter at that precise moment. It was time for England to have his elevenses but he couldn't very well do that without a properly brewed cup of tea in his expensive bone china cup. The blonde had already beseeched to his boss for some extra money so as to buy some more of the dried brown leaves, however the plea had fallen on deaf ears as his boss claimed that they simply didn't have the spare cash to buy him a new ration of tea. He would simply have to wait until the next order was imported, but that simply wasn't good enough, nor in fact soon enough.

This only left one alternative, he would have to visit one of the other countries homes and hope that they had some of the golden brown drink. As much as the surly boy wanted the go out and hunt down the sod that had dared to steal from him, England realised that he would not be able to catch the wanker before the withdraw symptoms would have set in; and that was not a pretty sight for anyone.

The puzzle now lay in whose house was most likely to have stores of tea. He supposed that his best bet would be one of the Asian countries as that is after all where he imported his own cases of tea from.

And so with that settled he stood menacingly from his chair and marched towards his large ebony double doors that acted as the entrance and exit to his private tea room.

He had a fellow Allie to visit.

OOO

_This_ was not proper tea.

It did not look like tea.

And it did not smell like tea.

There wasn't even any milk.

Kneeling down on the overly soft goose feathered cushion England stared down in at the strange liquid with a vaguely veiled disgust. True, the strange concoction was at least brown but it was more of an amber colour than anything, which was a dead giveaway that _this was not tea._

China was knelt across from him at the short lacquered mahogany table, daintily sipping on his non-tea beverage. Still it was quiet odd to see the older country drinking as he was. The gold cuffs of his red silk top had folded over his fingers rendering his thumbs completely useless, forcing him to cup both of his clothed hands around the porcelain mug in order to lift it to his lips. Although the cup didn't have any handles to start with so Britain supposed that it didn't really mater either way. Still it was the mug itself that was most disconcerting if anything.

The tea was housed within a white cats head, or more precisely, Hello Kitty's head. The overly cute cat stared back at him as China once again raised it to take another sip of his drink. The imprinted pink bow near the cats right ear only added to the sickly sweetness. But he was effectively drinking out of a hollowed out cat head. No matter how cute that may seem to his companion to England that was just off putting and wrong. Maybe it was a good thing that there wasn't any proper tea being tainted within the porcelain bowl.

Noticing that his visitor had yet to do much, other than glower at his hotly demanded for tea, China inquired "Are you quite alright England, you haven't touched your tea yet, ahen?"

Coughing awkwardly into his pale clenched fist the blonde said "There is a simple explanation for that. This here, is not tea"

China tilted his head ever so slightly to the side in a clear sign of confusion whilst he patted the head of the baby panda sat contently in his lap "But of course it is tea. The finest blend too, ahen"

Frown still in place England continued with his argument "No, this is not tea. It is not dark enough and there is no milk either"

A high pitched mewling noise was voiced from the small black and white bear squirming in delight from the attention that it was being garnered, this was accompanied by a light chuckle from the long haired boy "You do not put cow's milk into tea. To do so would ruin its aromatic fragrance and dilute its rich colouring. Not to mention what it would do to the taste of such excellent tea leaves, ahen"

England wasn't sure wither he was being mocked or not, but still his short temper accompanied by his desperate need for a proper British cup of tea all equated to a massive explosion of anger and frustration "Listen here you git, this is not a sodding cup of proper tea, no matter how rare or excellent you believe the leaves to be. The fact that you don't even put milk in it is baffling enough but it's just made worse by your creepy cups. I mean my God man, you're drinking out of a cartoon cats head, where's the elegance?"

And without further ado the bushy browed boy stood up tall to his full height and stormed straight out of China's house mumbling obscenities all the way; leaving a startled country in his wake.

The dark haired boy looked down at his obliviously happy panda as he himself tried to make sense out of what had just happened. Coming to the conclusion that it was just England being England he huffed in indignation.

"How rude. No respect ones elders"

OOO

He had tried another Asian country after the first failure.

It seemed like the logical thing to do.

However that plan went down like a led balloon.

It was worse than at China's.

Having arrived at Japan's house England wasted no time in throwing around frustrated insults whilst screaming for a cup of sodding tea. Was he worried about offending someone? No; of course not. He was at Japan's and no one else took being a gracious host quite as seriously as the member of Axis power. So the poor boy took it all in his stride and did his very best to make this a happy visit for the surly Brit. But of course it wasn't enough.

To start with the tea was wrong, _yet again_. Did no one have proper tea? The green mixture stared back at England like a slap in the face. The cursed tea knew that it wasn't right. It was mocking him. The blasted thing was _bitter_ for Christ's sake, tea isn't bitter. It's meant to be warm and soothing, letting you know that everything will be all right at the end of the day so long as you have a piping hot brew. But this was just all wrong, on so many different levels.

The thing that took the metaphorical biscuit, so to speak, was that you couldn't even pour out the hot water through the strainer, catching any lose leaves that may have gone awry, add the smooth creamy milk and then drink steaming beverage. Oh no, at Japan's house you had to have tea _ceremony._

To be frank it was all a bit much for England, having to sit there watching a painted doll prepare his tea, which was the _wrong tea_ any way, and not being able to do anything was painful. Knelt down sitting on cramped legs the blonde could not bear it any longer. It was like putting a crystal tumbler of malt whiskey in front of an alcoholic and then telling them they can't have it; or doing the same thing with a glass bottle of vodka for Russia. To be blunt it was torture.

England was up and out of the Asian building before you could say Union Jack.

By now he was going slightly mad, for want of a better word, without his holy grail of tea.

And then he saw France.

It all went down from there.

Poor, poor England.

OOO

What an awesome day today was.

Lie-ins and junk food, all for the most amazing hero of all time.

But still America did have some manners buried deep beneath his huge over inflated ego. It was only polite after all to say good bye to ones host before you left their residence; and that is exactly what America was doing as whistled a merry a tune on his way down to bid France a fond fair well, or rather _later dude._

The corridor that he now walked down was typical of the rose loving man, it was overly decadent and screamed flamboyant and feminine at any brave soul who dared to walk down the large halls. Portraits lined the walls on both sides, of France himself in various poses such as blowing kisses at the creeped out guests that had the unfortunate experience of walking past it. A particularly large one, framed in elaborately carved willow even had a small polished to gleaming, gold plaque loving secured to it which simply read 'Dandy'.

Not far from this a gilded set of double doors stood tall and proudly in such an overly elegant way that it could only be described as tacky. Kicking open the doors forcefully with a super hero kick, America hollered out "Yo, France dude, I'm off. But thanks fo-Oh my God"

There before the blonde haired boy was one of the most horrifying things he had ever seen, and something that would leave a permanent scar on his poor naive brain. No amount of therapy could right the wrong that was currently burning his now dull blue eyes.

For there, on an overly large, most likely king sized, four poster canopy bed, atop rumpled purple silk sheets, lay a clearly naked France; one small grace was that said sheet covered anything untoward. However the thing that made it the situation even worse was the fact that there was a very discombobulated England pinned down underneath the older country; although admittedly his St George's cross cotton boxers would have been quite comical under other circumstances.

The long haired blonde turned his attention towards the new male in his boudoir "Oh, America, come to join us?"

A look of pure disgust was plastered onto the USA's face as he spluttered "England, man, wh-what the hell are you doing?"

The confused and glazed look seemed to be permanently fixed to the pale features of Britain as he mumbled "He said he had tea. He promised me proper tea"

It was at that moment that America realized what the problem was with his older brother, he had after all spent most of his childhood at England's house, so he managed to pick up a few of the Brit's odd quirks. And this one he had seen only a handful of times before, but still he recognized the symptoms. England hadn't had his elevenses.

Running forward the glasses wearing boy grabbed his bushy eye browed counterpart and sprinted out of that building for all he was worth, leaving a pouting France behind.

Arriving back at England's house, America had slapped him around a bit to try and knock some sense into the tea deprived nation. Once he was sure that the green eyed boy was somewhat sane again he instructed him to get cleaned up and then to come around to his house. Apparently America still had some tea left over from when the surly blonde had last visited his digs.

And with that he was gone.

Giggling like a little girl as he went.

A little girl hero, mind you.

OOO

Fresh suit neatly in place.

A smooth tie was tightly fastened around his thin neck.

Now all he had to do was collect his warm homemade scones then he'd be ready for tea around America's. Yes, he couldn't wait for a proper cuppa, it was just what he needed.

And that's when he saw them. Two figures hovering over his stacked pile of fresh scones.

They say that the culprit always returns to the scene of the crime.

And in this case it was never further from the truth.

Bastards.

OOO

Ah, it was bliss.

Nothing in the world could possibly beat a proper cup of tea.

It was simply heavenly.

Even if America had brewed it wrong.

Honestly who put milk in with the tea leaves, absurd.

The cup wasn't much to his taste either. The hideous white styrofoam monstrosity was however typical of America and his obscene obsession with fast food and caffeine. Still beggars can't be choosers.

Placing down his half consumed drink, England stared at his fellow blonde with a mischievous glint in his forest green eyes "Thank you for the tea America. Although I believe the reason that your being this accommodating may in fact be more due to the fact that you have a guilty conscience rather than because your being polite"

A slightly nervous look passed over the younger countries face before he schooled it into a look of innocent confusion "What are you on about dude?"

Crossing his legs and smirking all the while, the cynic replied "Oh it's just, that I found the people who stole my tea chest. At first I couldn't understand how on Earth they had managed to sneak into my home without alerting me in some way. It wasn't until I saw who the second member of the thieving duo was that I realized how they did it. You lived in my house for quite a while when you were younger, didn't you America?"

Sweat began to bead on the blue eyed boy's brow. A nervous laughter bubbled forth from his somewhat trembling lips "Well yeah, but what are you getting at England man? I was at France's house the whole time, I couldn't have done it"

The Brit's elevated foot began to sway to a silent beat "Yes, you're quite right. However you would know the easiest ways into my house without being spotted; now wouldn't you?"

America merely stared back wide eyed at the evil grin stretching his older brothers lips from ear to ear. His silence was answer enough; he knew he'd been caught, busted.

The grin stayed firmly in place as the Brit chirped "I always get revenge America, never forget that I was a pirate once. Look out the window"

Turning slowly towards the transparent panes of glass, America let out a heroic high pitched shriek of terror "TONY"

For outside in his garden was a trembling alien and Sealand, tied together in chains with Russia masks on their heads. A rabid Belarus circled the pair like a hungry predator, trying to decide which of the 'Russia's' before her was the actual one. Then she could drag him off to be married.

The happiness was positively radiating off of England as he hummed a happy tune.

"Never mess with my tea"

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><p>AN: Thank God that's over. This was a hell of a lot harder to write then I thought it would be, but at least it's over and done with now. I hope you all liked it. I based this loosely off of when I recently went to Berlin for a trip with my University, my friend and I were desperately looking for a proper cup of tea, but all they had was fruit tea and such. To put it bluntly it was very long week in that respect, the first thing that we did when we got back to England was to have a proper cup of tea. It's funny that this stereotype of British people is actually true, never come between a Brit and their tea. So any way let me know what you think and review please, it encourages me to write. Although I don't think I'll be doing another one shot or a request for a while now and will instead focus on finishing my current ongoing multi-chapter story. So please review, review and review again. Review.<p>

Until the next time

XThorn

P.S This chapter, like many of my other ones, hasn't been BETA'ed so please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors, thank you.


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